


Imagine a World like That

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 04:11:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: My little fix-it fic for "The Miracle of Christmas."  It begins right after Flynn says, "I'm not exactly your type" and continues on to explore a romantic ending for Garcy.





	1. Chapter 1

Lucy stroked the horse’s soft, dark hair, glancing at the animal’s peaceful eyes, trying to find that kind of gentle patience within herself, that control over her emotions, but instead when she looked back into Flynn’s stormy eyes, she just snapped.

“You don’t know anything about my type. Just — stop it, Flynn, stop giving in to the assumption that you’re not good enough when—!” 

He stared at her, quietly aghast, utterly called out on his thin facade of acceptance. Lucy pressed her lips together as her eyes flickered over his conflicted, but certainly intrigued features. He smiled, just ever so slightly, but it wasn’t that tragically wan smile from his attempt to project ego and bravado into their conundrum, when he’d asked her if she thought about the two of them together. No, this time his face relaxed a little, just briefly letting the hope of happiness back in. 

Garcia Flynn was so fucking beautiful, it hurt. He stood over her, big and strong and tough, his heart cradled in the palm of her hand, still half-resigned to losing her. And she wanted him so badly, it was infuriating that he had tried to push her away.

“You need to stop telling me how I feel, which is frankly insulting and presumptuous, and tell me how _you_ feel.” Her voice was sharp but her eyes were soft. She turned fully towards Flynn and placed her hands on the lapels of his jacket, steadying him, anchoring him, prompting Wyatt to look away from the two of them with a sad expression. Perhaps his resignation was far better earned than Flynn's.

Flynn was undone by her touch, even over the layers of his jacket and shirt. She read him so easily, it was as if she ran her fingertips over his naked emotions. “I can’t!” he blurted haphazardly, “Because Lucy, despite every reason why I shouldn’t, I _do_ think about you, and you know it. I care for you, incessantly. You know that, too. The question remains, what you choose to do about it.”

“You think I’ll always be in love with Wyatt?” she asked quietly. Flynn looked momentarily over to the place where Wyatt had stood a few feet away, helping to gather the horses, and found that the other man had wandered away over the hill, chatting with Jiya.

They were alone, or as alone as they could be at such an awkward impasse in their adventuring. That was where they seemed to live in this love, continually at an awkward impasse, and Flynn didn’t know how to neaten it up, didn’t know how he could possibly be the one to make her happy. How to deserve her.

“I just…” he shrugged, taking a step closer, definitely in her personal space as he brushed the back of his hand against her cheek and she leaned into his touch, tingles roving all over her skin at the feel of his warm and rugged hand. Flynn’s heart lifted and he found the strength to go on. “How could it work out between us, after all I’ve done?”

“Forget it,” Lucy urged, her dark eyes wide and wet, “Forget all your past mistakes, forget what the journal says we do in the future, what do you want now?”

“You know exactly what I want, Lucy, that’s never really been a question,” he murmured, taking off her hat and leaning down to gently kiss the wounds on her face, the long scratch on her upper cheek and the smaller one on her chin, so treacherously close to her lips. She closed her eyes as tears of longing spilled from her long lashes and he slowly kissed those too, the touch of his mouth on her skin making a fluttering sensation at her center open up into a deeper ache.

Lucy reached up and knocked the hat right off his head, then sank her hand into his hair, guiding his lips to hers as she went up on her toes and kissed him, far too deliberately for there to be even the shadow of a doubt left in his mind: she wanted this, too. Only this, only Flynn. No one else.

“Lucy,” he sighed, cupping her face in his big hands and kissing her, slow and deep, sending a pleasurable shudder through her body as his tongue dipped between her lips. The whole world seemed to go into a hazy state of slow motion as she slipped her hands under his coat and pressed herself against his firm body. When they came up for air, Flynn smoothed the messy hair back from her forehead and looked down into her startled, lust-glazed eyes. She’d known it would feel good, but not like _that_. She could never have guessed a kiss could make her go weak all over, wobbly-kneed and speechless, but here they were, here he was loving her and she just never wanted it to stop.

“That was, uh…” Words never typically failed her, but as his eyes crinkled and he smiled with that adorably sexy flush of pride, she gave a short, helpless laugh.

“Yes,” Flynn confirmed adoringly, stroking his fingers through her hair again and then cutely straightening her coat. “Yes, it was, Lucy.”

Cogent thoughts started to click back into place in her mind, formed from the urgency of her deep-seated yearning. She needed to tell him, he’d changed her life, he’d saved her, given her safe harbor and new dreams, she needed to tell him she’d never leave him alone the way life had so many times. That he had every right to his happiness and she wanted to give it to him every day, for however long they had in this crazy life. “Flynn, I…”

“Guys,” Wyatt called as he returned over the top of the hill, barely looking at them, realizing it would be better for all three of them if he kept a respectful distance from these new developments between Lucy and Flynn. “We’ve got to get a move on.”

“Coming!” Lucy called as Wyatt nodded with a friendly, if complicated smile at them both.

Flynn helped her onto her horse, his hand staying planted on her calf for a few beats longer than was necessary as she gazed down at him, filled with curious need to feel more of his touch, his kiss, to hear his most honest words in her ears and trailing down her body along with his lips…

“You’re blushing,” he grinned, looking as innocently excited as a schoolboy, though the darkening sensuality in his eyes spoke to far less chaste desires. She loved this, the sight of his cheerfulness, the way his armor fell off for her to reveal the wistfulness beneath it that was only for her. She never wanted to stop making him smile.

“Surely you’ve noticed, you’ve always had that effect on me,” Lucy admitted, holding the reins firmly despite the wild way her thoughts were racing into ideas for the next time she and Flynn could be alone together. 

“Even when you were mad at me?” he asked, tracing the curve of her leg from her calf up to her thigh, his lips curved up naughtily. Lucy’s heart skittered delightedly.

“ _Especially_ when I was mad at you,” she smirked, pleased at the way _he_ blushed this time.

“Can we…talk some more tonight? You know, unless we get swept into some violent catastrophe or other which would make speaking intimately too much of a challenge?” 

Flynn’s luscious accent seemed to layer even his simplest statements with intoxicating meaning, but at this point, Lucy could just barely get herself back on track to continue with the day’s work. 

_”Speaking intimately”_? This man would surely be the death of her. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, wishing she could jump in the Lifeboat and skip past the hours between then and now. But they had so much to do, such mysteries to solve to save Rufus and bring Rittenhouse down for good. She knew that any stolen moments between herself and Flynn now were just that, until the mission was done and they were all home and safe. But that didn’t mean she didn’t savor every single one of those stolen moments like the preciously delicious contraband they were. 

She grinned, her own renewed optimism making her whole face light up. She hadn’t thought of the future with such wonderful, shimmering possibilities in years, but again…this was the effect Flynn had on her. 

He picked his hat up off the grass and placed it back on his head before tipping it with a coy, gentlemanly move, answering in his deep, suggestive voice. “Until tonight, then.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, this chapter is replete with smut, sorry not sorry...how could I resist? ;)
> 
> Additionally, I changed that bit about Future Wyatt saying Jessica faked her pregnancy, because I vehemently disliked the way the finale handled that. On a related note, the lack of a remotely cohesive plot in the finale overall has led to me striving to shape events in some kind of a logical way, but the writers really handed us quite the challenge on that count. I'll keep on trying my best with it! :)

The day played out in typical style for Lucy and her friends, with famed Old West outlaw Joaquin Murrieta accosting the team only to befriend them. They all set up camp together that night as the time came to mull over their current status in the mission. They had to figure out Rittenhouse’s agenda at the dawn of the Gold Rush and how to use the intel from Lucy’s journal to save Rufus.

“Jessica’s the key,” Wyatt mused as the crackling fire cast shadows over his conflicted expression. “If she lives, Rufus dies…think about it, if we took her out of play when she was originally killed, then…”

“We’d get Rufus back,” Lucy finished, her eyes alertly flitting from Wyatt’s attempt to repress his grief over Jessica’s apparently necessary demise, to Jiya’s surprised expression shifting to a resolved nod of understanding, to Flynn’s problematic look of resignation. Lucy would have to deal with that later.

“If it’s the only way…” Jiya said slowly, a bit less hesitant to agree to bloodshed than she used to be, but still carefully weighing the morality of the situation.

Lucy patted her friend’s hand, deeply sad for all Jiya had endured, from her ordeal of being trapped in Chinatown to coming back to them only to lose Rufus. It was more than anyone should have to bear. Luckily, like all of the close-knit team, Jiya should know she would not have to bear these trials and their reverberations of trauma alone.

“I don’t know if it’s really the only way,” Lucy remarked, making Flynn raise his eyebrows with a dubious, yet intrigued half-smile, while Wyatt shook his head.

“I can’t see another way, Lucy,” Wyatt admitted, swallowing against the continuous anxiety of the situation. “As much as it hurts to think we have to let Jessica die, and our baby will never be…if she was even telling the truth about being pregnant, that is…Rittenhouse saving Jessica altered history and killed Rufus. And given the number of times I tried to save her myself and how easily it could have been me to change, no, _damage_ history, I should be the one to set it right.” 

“But if you go back and do that, you’ll endanger yourself. Remember, the side effects of traveling to your own past?” Flynn frowned, that disturbingly knowing, accepting look back in his pretty hazel eyes. “If you, and-or Lucy, die saving Rufus, who will be here to defeat Rittenhouse and save the world?”

“It’s gotta be me; this is my responsibility,” Wyatt said stubbornly, “But first we need to take care of whatever Rittenhouse is plotting here in 1848.”

“Let’s sleep on it,” Jiya suggested, snuggling down in her bedroll and squeezing her eyes shut as if willing slumber to provide easier answers when they all woke.

The others lay down to sleep soon after, but Lucy kept her eyes just barely open, peeking at Flynn as he made the flimsy effort of lying prone for a few minutes before, as she’d suspected, he got up and went off into the rough, dusty, tree-dotted terrain alone.

She nimbly trailed him right to the Lifeboat, then perched her hands on her hips and cleared her throat loudly. Flynn stopped short, dropped his head and chuckled low in his throat.

“Going somewhere?” Lucy asked, deceptively casual. He turned to her with a rueful expression, but nothing could save him from the scolding which he knew full-well he had richly earned.

“Lucy, I’m sorry, but—“ Flynn barely got to start his explanation before she had launched herself at him, her comparatively tiny, slim body remarkably imposing under such circumstances. She stood before him and grabbed his shirt, urging his gaze to hers. 

“So, that’s it? You were just going to leave me, after we finally said how we feel?” She shook her head as her pride shattered into disappointed sadness. “You make all the decisions for everyone, and I don’t get a say, I just have to lose you so you can set things right, choosing some short-sighted gambit that might not even work over me, over us, over everything we can still achieve _together_?”

He stayed put, his body compliant to her grip on him. “Yes, Lucy, I should be the one to decide when my life is less valuable than all of yours, yes I should save Rufus and sacrifice myself to do it if there’s even a chance it might make up for my past crimes, and if it protects all of you who are more important—“

“And it doesn’t bother you, walking away from me without saying goodbye, not even telling me what you were planning—“ She practically spat the words, rage killing her melancholy at the way he had the nerve to stick to his original line of reasoning.

“You figured it out quite astutely on your own, which I should have predicted,” he smiled, taking her into his arms as her palm flattened against his broad chest. “You know it killed me to walk away from you, you know it’s the last thing I want.”

“I don’t know that, Flynn,” Lucy replied briskly, “Not if your redemption and your need to make spontaneous, poorly-thought-out decisions out of guilt and obligation are going to be your top priority like they clearly were tonight!”

“Well, you make me sound like an idiot when you say it like that,” Flynn replied, wincing and then giving her that irritating, endearing smile again. It was the _“I’m an ass but you love me”_ look, and it held way too much power over her racing heart.

“Then don’t act like an idiot,” Lucy sighed heavily, sliding her arms up around his neck as his own hands landed at her low back. “I’m not losing you. Truth is, you’re too smart for your own good because you insist on relying on only _your_ wits. We’re a team, you’re part of our family now, Flynn. That comes with some pretty serious benefits, despite the basically nonstop danger…” she played with the hair at the back of his head as she spoke wryly. “You’re not alone anymore. You need to trust us and we’ll have each others’ backs. There’s a way to save Rufus without getting yourself killed.”

“It’s so hard for me to believe that,” Flynn admitted. He bit his lip as she ran her fingers over his cheek. “That I belong somewhere, anywhere. That I could deserve to belong with you, that there’s still a life for me beyond doing my part to bring Rittenhouse down.”

“And if you let yourself believe it, even just for a minute,” Lucy suggested, rising up to plant a soft kiss on his surprised lips before continuing, “Would you be able to see the alternative solution?”

“I suppose you’re thinking of somehow contacting Connor Mason…and Agent Christopher…” Flynn considered, speaking languidly as he ran the back of his knuckles down the side of her body, grazing her breast, waist and hip as her breath hitched and she stared up at him. “I guess that if we could get hold of them and have them somehow implement a plan to have someone trustworthy go after Jessica on the night she should have died, then that Someone could take her out instead of one of us having to do it.”

“And?” Lucy asked, letting her fingers trail down his neck and inside the collar of his shirt, touching his warm, firm skin as he shivered, as teased and turned-on as she’d intended. “Do you see a flaw in that plan?” 

“It might…” he gasped as her touch wandered liberally over his pecs before she untwisted the first of the very few buttons on his shirt that were still fastened at this late point of the evening. “It might, uh…take too long for them to find a way, and we could lose our footing with Rittenhouse in the meantime…” 

“Hmm, maybe,” Lucy allowed as he lowered his mouth to her neck and kissed her slowly, savoring every inch of her smooth, pale skin. “Oh!,” she whispered in a pleasurable lapse of logical thought. “Mmm, but…uh…give Mason and Agent Christopher some credit, they’ve accomplished the impossible before, we’re living proof of that. All we’ve got to do is publish a message to them first thing in the morning, whatever method is the fastest on our end, and let them do the rest. They don’t—oh, _God_ ,” she sighed as Flynn gently bit her neck, then sucked her skin, his strong hand squeezing her ass as she felt hot and dizzy all over. “Flynn!”

“Yes, Lucy?” he asked naughtily, bringing his wicked hands back up to cup her face so he could devour her lips in a searching, deep kiss. That wet aching between her thighs which belonged to him started to pulse insistently and she finished unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and then running her eager hands over his arms and back. He was warm, so warm, and he smelled of some sort of outstandingly delicious aftershave, sandalwood and amber underlaid with the slightest hint of citrus, his breaths coming short and fast, pulling his taut stomach in and out as her eyes drank him in, awestruck. 

Her lovely, deft fingers ran across plentiful scars but he kept gazing at her, open and passionately devoted to her every whim, his eyes shining and startled, even though he’d played an equal role in initiating this mischief. It seemed to be a source of continual surprise to Flynn that Lucy returned his feelings, and that understanding made her heart hurt and her entire being scream out to love him harder than ever.

Flynn watched her intently as her hands explored his upper body, then he closed his eyes with a soft groan as she kissed his stomach, gradually falling to her knees and reaching for his belt. “Lucy…” he muttered tightly, his fingers falling into her hair and stroking it almost sloppily. He’d held himself together for such a long time, and she was more than willing to help him fall apart for once, to become completely vulnerable and realize she was there to catch him, to hold him and love him entirely as her own. 

She undressed him completely, there in the moonlight in the otherwise abandoned area where they’d parked the Lifeboat, and her eyes as they looked up at his overwhelmed expression were huge, glittering with amazement at his beauty. He’d been hard for her from the moment their lips met, and now he was hopelessly engorged, bucking forward into her palm as she held his erection firmly, then leaned in to lick up his considerable length. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he cried out hoarsely, fingers tightening in her lustrous dark hair, “God, Lucy!”

“I want you,” Lucy murmured, her frank, sultry voice reverberating against his bulging member before she enveloped it in her soft, hot, velvety mouth, sucking him, then sliding her sweet tongue up and down and repeating the process as he panted and moaned, then finally grabbed her shoulder. 

“Wait,” he said, dropping to his knees to face her, kissing her mouth with shameless abandon and then unbuttoning her dress, working every tiny, delicate clasp with a surprising show of clever deductive work, his thick fingers following through on his urgent need to undress her without a single mistake. She heard nothing but her heart pounding in her ears and Flynn’s gorgeously excited deep breaths as she let him pull off one sleeve, then the other until she stood and he tugged the dress all the way down.

With a smile somehow both devilish and shy, Flynn covered the ground as best he could in the heat of the moment, carefully spreading her jacket, voluminous dress and his own discarded coat before Lucy sat down and he quickly followed, positioning himself between her thighs. She pulled him down with her as she lay back and they kissed, again and again until her lips were full and tingling, her senses more hyperaware than ever. Flynn undid her corset with the same skill he’d applied to the rest of her old-fashioned attire, with equal parts admiration of the way the lacy white undergarment showed off her lovely figure and desperate determination to get it off. 

Lucy’s breaths grew chaotic as he placed the corset aside, then stared at her nervous, ravishing nakedness in besotted astonishment. “I want you to know,” he said throatily, running his finger over the curves of her face and then down her neck, across her clavicle, his eyes meeting hers just as he finished anxiously but with complete certainty, “I— love you. I love you, Lucy Preston.”

“I love you too,” she answered blissfully, watching again that almost pained look of disbelief on his face as it gradually changed, revealing a nearly unbearable jolt of happiness. “Yes,” she told him emphatically, “Really. I love you, Flynn. This is what I want, to be with you. I am yours.” She’d never belonged to anyone like this, certainly not in her strange, ill-advised tryst with Wyatt, no matter how much she still loved him as a friend. No, only Garcia Flynn, with his damaged, yearning soul and his special ability to soothe her every fragile fear and woe, his uncanny knack for making her angry, aroused, or bringing her to tears of laughter. The way he made her feel completely, unquestionably, safe, protected, and adored. It was Flynn…he was her destiny.

“You’re mine?” he asked incredulously, beaming and then giving into the strong temptation to kiss her chest, layering kiss after kiss on the soft upper curves of her cleavage before he held and then licked at her breasts, swirling his tongue around one nipple, then the other, sucking each of them luxuriously in turn as she moaned sharply. Lucy wrapped her legs around his back and trailed her nails lightly down it, making him bolder as he continued his attentions to one of her breasts, using his free hand to grip and squeeze her thigh above her cream-colored, ribbed stocking. 

“Flynn,” she sighed, rubbing her toes over his back and feeling the insistent tension at her core raging out of control, “Please fuck me…please, please, please…” her voice was like petals falling apart, and she was melting, disintegrating with his every move, every stroke of his masterful tongue against her hard nipple, every way the rough texture of his inner hand stroked over her thigh and around to her bottom, claiming her lithe, trembling body.

He shuddered in ecstasy at her words, but to her unending delight, nothing could fully take his delectable badness away, and as he hovered above her, hooking his fingers into one side of her soaked panties, he grinned and answered, “Why, Miss Preston, such language…really, young lady.” 

“You know I’m being appropriately polite,” she grinned back, rolling her hips up, rubbing her damp pussy against his rigid cock and making him groan. “After all, I did say ‘please.’”

“Say it again,” he demanded gruffly, lining his erection up at her soaked slit and teasing her as she grabbed onto his shoulder with a startled cry of torturous pleasure.

“Please,” she moaned as he returned his mouth to her neck more greedily, licking and biting her firmly as he sank his cock inside her tight, beckoning heat.

Lucy’s mouth fell open and she clutched his shoulder and back more aggressively, her legs locked as close around him as she could manage with all her shaking. There just didn’t seem to be a way to get him close enough, to satiate this all-encompassing desire to connect with him, but _Jesus Christ,_ he felt amazing.

Flynn looked into her eyes as he gradually thrust deep inside her, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling of her exquisite little pussy hugging his girthy arousal, his heart thundering relentlessly at the full realization of their love.

“God…don’t stop,” she urged, her breathy voice soon dissolving into increasingly high-pitched cries, mostly his name mixed in among incomprehensibly jumbled expletives until she screamed, her sex squeezing him as her orgasm exploded over her whole being. That pushed Flynn over the edge and he gave a ragged cry of his own as he came for her, the feeling so intense that it pushed him onward. He kept fucking her, slamming in and out, his fingers fisting and tugging at her hair as his other hand still roughly gripped her thigh, waves of pleasure washing over them until they lay sweaty and spent, clinging together, impervious to the chill in the night air, far away from every ounce of pain or terror which had ever divided them.

After a while, when he could speak again, his voice was husky, his breath sweeping her forehead as she looked up at him from where she lay sprawled against him with her ear pressed to his heartbeat. “So…you were saying?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Lucy laughed whole-heartedly, faux-punching him as he cringed comically.

“Why thank you, Lucy,” he affirmed boastfully, trailing his fingers through her hair because he couldn’t get enough of these simple touches, every precious moment of her. “You’re quite an outstanding lover yourself. And I _told_ you that it would be good, but then, I think you already knew, didn’t you?”

She rolled her eyes, pushing up and resting her chin on her hands, then staring at him, utterly smitten all over again. God, he was hot when he bragged.

“Okay, okay, you called me out,” she giggled, “But in my own defense, it was pretty obvious that sex with you would be very, _very_ good.”

“Right, right,” he acknowledged, his eyes sparkling with yet more mischief. He really never did run out of it! “But, anyway, as you were saying, about our mission, about the plan to contact Mason and Christopher, just before we made passionate love, you seemed to be on the brink of making an important point of some kind.”

Lucy swatted at Flynn again, prompting him to catch her hand and lavish it with kisses.

“Good God, do you want me to explain or have my way with you again?” Lucy asked, flushed and tingling at his every minute attention.

“Yes, please,” he said smugly, caressing her fingers, “I want you to explain, and then have your way with me again. That’s a perfect plan.”

She laughed and gave into his irresistible request. “Well, then, speaking of perfect plans, I think we can get Jessica out of play at the time she originally died _without_ killing her. I don’t think it’s remotely necessary, and how would _you_ like to help me and our friends save the day knowing that we didn’t have to take another life to do so?” 

Flynn traced her lips, then spread them as a shiver went down Lucy’s spine. “Lucy Preston, have I mentioned that I’m completely and irrevocably in love with you?”

“Yes,” she murmured knowingly, moving up to kiss his mouth before adding in a purr, “but never, ever stop reminding me.”


End file.
